


christmastime blues

by idacarvalli



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas fic, Christmastime, Crack Fic, Domestic Avengers, Gag Gifts, Homesickness, Mentions of PTSD, Minor shipping, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Not Canon Compliant, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, can you just let my superfamily be happy, clint and thor get drunk, comic compliant kinda, everyone gets along, vision and steve can't decorate for shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24646780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idacarvalli/pseuds/idacarvalli
Summary: Wintertime reminds Natasha all too much of home.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Thor, Everyone & Everyone, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	christmastime blues

**Author's Note:**

> i have my tonynat rights, okay?  
> I've been writing a lot recently just because I'm not gonna have a laptop soon. Anyway, here's a little domestic Avengers found family fic I wanted to right. I haven't written anything from Nat's PoV yet, so here we go.  
> Maybe I'll go finish those other projects eventually.  
> There's mentions of ptsd in here.

Christmas was always a party when you lived with Tony Stark; in fact, the Iron Man had been sighted by the entire city of New York outside his tower earlier in the day, making the A on the tower glow in red and green. He was maybe the most invested in the holiday, but no one was sure whether it was out of spite or joy.

Natasha’s relationship with the season of giving had always been a kind of bittersweet; Christmas reminded her all too much of Russia, with its snow-covered forests and its cruelly cold temperatures. She wasn’t the only one who hated wintertime though; Steve and Bucky both weren’t huge fans, and Bruce just hated the cold. 

But they stuck along with it just for Tony- and for Thor, who was still learning about Midgardian holidays that weren’t born around worshipping pagan Norse gods. God knew that they needed the break from Avenging.

Avenger Christmas’ were always a big deal in the Tower; everyone would come from whatever city or country or planet that they were on and celebrate together, and give each other presents (usually nice ones, although Clint loved his gag gifts). 

The fireplace was crackling quietly in the main room, where Wanda, Scott, and Sam sat, chatting in hushed voices with each other. Steve and Vision were working on decorating the tree, although most of their ‘work’ consisted of trying to keep the tree upright after they kept knocking it over. Bucky and Bruce were still being recluses in the corner, and Thor was laughing heartily at something that Clint had said over by the bar. 

T’Challa hadn’t arrived yet; he had some stuff to take care of in Wakanda, apparently. But Natasha knew full well that was bullshit and Shuri was more than capable of taking care of the country by herself. Best not to interfere in a king’s matters, though. T’Challa wasn’t the only one they were still waiting on; Carol was working a job on Xandar with the Guardians- who knew when she would be done. Still, Natasha hoped that she would join.

The main door of the tower’s living space opened and let in the snow-covered suits of Iron Man and War Machine, who had finished up decorating the outside of the tower to look like a giant candy cane.

Dumbasses.

Natasha wasn’t doing anything in particular; she had always preferred a more ‘managerial’ role during Christmastime. So she sat back in her spot by the giant dining table to watch the falling snow blanket the metropolis and tried her best not to think of how much it reminded her of home. 

“Nat!” Clint calls from the other side of the room, where he still sits at the bar with Thor. “Drinks?”

“I’m alright, Clint,” she says, and smiles. “You don’t need to yell.”

“He’s drunk,” Steve calls from the tree, now attempting to precariously balance an ornament on a tiny fragment of a branch. The Christmas trees Tony bought grew bigger and more extravagant every year, and this year was no exception. Stark had gone up to Maine for the tree, and it was at least 15 feet tall, completely dwarfing everything and every one next to it. 

What a showboat. 

Clint eventually comes over and pulls her over to where he and Thor are drinking Stark’s entire stash of beer. 

“You guys do know it’s not even Christmas yet?” Natasha casts a glance at Thor, who’s pouring himself another one.

“What’s your point?” Clint clinks his glass with Thor’s and downs it in one gulp. Natasha sighs and shakes her head exasperatedly. 

“My point is that Tony’s going to be pissed when he finds that you two’ve completely finished his whole stock of alcohol.  _ His _ stock of alcohol. Which is saying something,” Natasha takes a seat on the barstool. “I’d rather eat.”

“Stark can always go buy more,” Thor insists, and his stomach growls in agreement with Natasha.

“I’ll order something,” Natasha pulls out her phone because she knows Clint is too drunk to talk into a speaker and Thor screams into every microphone. “Chinese or Greek?”

“Mexican,” Clint says, just to piss her off. 

“Greek it is,” Natasha calls the restaurant, and on the other end of the line she can hear the usual guy talking. “We’ll take the regular, Pierre.”

With a quick “You got it” Pierre hangs up, and Natasha slides the phone back into her pocket. 

Clint and Thor’s drunkenness was frankly, kind of annoying, so she wanders over to where Steve and Vision are working on putting up the tree.

“You guys need help?” she asks Vision, who’s working on the tinsel. “Not that I’m volunteering. But I could find someone if you needed it.”

“If you are volunteering, then yes,” Steve calls from the other side of the tree. “Otherwise no.”

“Your loss,” Natasha shrugs and walks away, leaving behind a protesting Steve and Vision. 

“I see both you and I are stuck in a managerial position of sorts,” Tony quips, walking up to Natasha and looking at the tree. He’s taken off the suit and stands there in his black undersuit, arc reactor glowing brightly in his chest. 

Natasha looks at him. “If that’s what you want to call it,” she says, glancing towards the bar. “I think Clint and Thor are going to drink your entire bar if you don’t stop them.”

“Ah, whatever, let them have fun,” Tony waves it off and turns to Natasha. “Are you okay?”

Natasha arches an eyebrow. “Yeah,” she says. “Where did that come from?”

“Because the Natasha I know would have pried the bottles out of both of their hands and smashed them on the floor,” Tony squints, the blue of his eyes barely visible. “So what’s up?”

There’s no point lying to Tony Stark; even if she was one of the best liars in the world. Tony would just keep annoying her. 

“You really wanna know?” she asks.

Tony is unnaturally quiet for a second and then responds quickly. “Let’s go outside.”

Natasha sighs and follows him, grabbing Bucky’s coat off of the coat rack on the way out. She would put it back later. Maybe. 

They stand on a small balcony attached to a corridor leading out of the living quarters. No one can see them there; not in the city, where lights twinkle underneath the dark sky, lighting up Manhattan with their glow, and not in the tower, where everyone is too busy doing their own thing to notice. Stars shine faintly from the heavens, although New York’s light pollution makes them hard to see. But Natasha has her ways.

At home in Russia, they saw the same stars. 

“So what’s wrong?” Tony leans against the railing of the balcony, a now iron-clad wrist dangling over the edge. 

“I hate explaining myself to people,” Natasha sighs and blows a strand of hair out of her face. “It’s the cold.”

“The cold?” Tony looks at her, evidently confused.

“Well, it’s not so much the cold,” Natasha wraps her arms around herself. “Maybe what the cold reminds me of.”

“Is it-” Tony cuts himself off, and then lowers his tone, although there’s no point in that. “Is it PTSD? Like  Steve and Bucky? Or how I hate water?”

“No, it’s not,” Natasha looks out at the city, where the Brooklyn Bridge fades into the darkness below. 

She could spend eternity here, looking out into eternity, suspended in time. “It’s more of a… reminder, I guess.”

“Of what?”

“Home,” she answers and picks at a fingernail, trimmed too short for its own good. “Russia.”

“You used to have winters like this there?” Tony asks. 

“Worse than this,” she gives him a small smile and shakes the snow out of her hair. “The winters there used to last forever, and they weren’t nearly as nice as these. Christmas was different there; everything was different, I guess. But still so much the same.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not Captain America when it comes to consoling people,” Tony chuckles to himself and crosses his arms over his reactor. “But this is your home now.”

Natasha looks at him -from his dark hair to the blue glow of his arc reactor that pierces through the darkness- and smiles. Genuinely. “Thanks, Stark.”

“No problem,” Tony’s gaze has returned back into its shell, back to the billionaire playboy gaze that he often retreated to. Nat stares at him for a second and then opens the door. 

“Let’s get back inside,” she walks in first. “I’m freezing.”

“Oops,” Tony says, and steps inside as well, shedding the iron suit almost immediately. 

“If I get hypothermia you’re paying for my medical bills, Stark,” Natasha shoves lightly at his shoulder. Tony stumbles for a second and then catches himself. 

“Don’t I always?” he asks her. Natasha rolls her eyes, although she can feel the beginnings of a laugh pulling at her lips. 

* * *

When Christmas morning does arrive, Natasha is in a much more festive mood. Carol comes from space and Quill tags along just because he misses Earth, T’Challa comes the day before from Wakanda, where he left Shuri, and even Pepper cancels all her meetings to come. 

The fire crackles gently in the hearth; the team surrounds it, sitting cross-legged on the floor in a circle, passing gifts to each other. Over the speakers, JARVIS is playing Christmas carols from Tony’s personal playlist, which meant that most of them were heavy metal. The tree was still upright, which was somewhat of a Christmas miracle in itself, considering the number of times Steve had knocked it over or Clint had run into it.

Clint handed out his presents first. They were mostly stupid gag gifts; Steve received lingerie, Wanda got shaving cream, and everyone except for Natasha got something stupid. Natasha had gotten a new knife. That man knew her so well.

Soon enough presents had all been handed out. Natasha got seven different types of knives from seven different people, a special lipstick taser from Pepper, new gloves from Steve, an upgraded Widow’s Bite from Tony, and a space gadget from Quill, who had insisted on bringing space things for everyone. Not that she minded in the least. Tony had made some upgrades to it before giving it to her, much to Natasha’s annoyance.

Carol was saying something stupid to the team, while Natasha played with the space gadget. It had all sorts of rune-like engravings on it, so she fumbled around until she found the power button. The gadget beeped and lit up, the screen turning blue. Typography fumbled along the surface until it formed a sentence.

_ Welcome home _ .


End file.
